


Conducting a Symphony

by TaigaKunaix



Series: Controlling Force [1]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Musical References, Rough Kissing, Smut, and Hiruma doesn't take submission very nicely, because akaba cant go an hour without allusions to music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaigaKunaix/pseuds/TaigaKunaix
Summary: It takes a genius to know another genius. It takes a controlling force to subdue another. Those are traits both Hiruma and Akaba share, and as the former captain of the Bando Spiders, it didn't take much to dissect the reason why Hiruma flipped the script on making out with him. [Takes place during Saikyoudai, college verse.]





	Conducting a Symphony

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on FF.net sometime ago, and wanted to bring it here lol. I got back into Eyeshield 21 and I forgot how funky some of these characters are, I swear that was not an intended pun. On one note, I seriously was not expecting this to be as long as it turned out to be. Shit was twenty pages, yeesh.
> 
> Rated M for Hiruma obviously, and smut. Our captains play no kinda games…
> 
> Again… no pun intended. Alright, lemme shush lol enjoy the one-shot!

He found him again, in the same place Akaba will always be after school on weekdays; his music class.

He would open the door, saunter in until he was standing right in front of Akaba, who _still_ didn't adopt the habit of looking up at people once they approach him.

"I found more plays for us to look over." There will _always_ be more, Akaba knew. Hiruma had his arms crossed, wearing the Saikyoudai uniform minus the black blazer. "All's being organized by our Fucking Manager so by the time we're ready, she'll be done sorting it through. All we'll have to do is watch them."

He didn't need to know the assigned time. Whenever they had to look over feasible research, Akaba had to be _in_ the football team's clubhouse at 9:47 PM, _sharp_.

_What an oddly specific time,_ he'd say to himself at first. Though if his cadence was correct, Hiruma used the weirdly appointed time as a test, and Akaba would pass it every single time. Today evening, however, Hiruma had messaged him privately, and Akaba found himself looking over at his flip phone's screen while sitting in his own dorm.

_Not at the clubhouse._ The fragmented sentence was easily translated. Akaba didn't need any context. _At my apartment_. He knew where Hiruma lived; it was a business hotel that was an hour away from their university. He had been there once, and it was the second out-of-practice encounter that Akaba mistaken to be an off-key inclination. The first encounter was the predecessor of that thought, and that happened coincidentally after class hours as well.

_Akaba sat alone in his music class as usual, strumming quiet, passing chords. Hiruma slid the classroom door open with his foot, approaching with a unique tempo, his blue eyes trained on the former captain. He stopped right in front of him, his M4A1 perched against his arm, sharp nails had ceased an earlier tapping upon entering the room._

"_I'm going to get coffee."_

_Akaba opened his eyes, he didn't look up in confusion at the sudden statement, which is something pretty much anybody would have done. He momentarily stopped playing his guitar instead, the chord progression still fresh in his mind. Hiruma wasn't the kind of person to tell others of his whereabouts, unless if telling so benefited him in some way. In this case, there clearly wasn't anything notable over a visit to a cafe, and any normal person would stop their train of thought right there, but Akaba knew Hiruma: his tune had a purpose for everything._

_Akaba remained impartial. He'll play along by being oblivious instead. "Then go get coffee."_

_He could feel the quarterback's eyes on him, but he still didn't look up. The room became silent for at least five seconds, one that would leave somebody peeing themselves knowing that they were sitting in front of Satan himself, though to Akaba the room stationed itself into a caesura. Not looking him in the face still, the devil quarterback glared at him as if he expected Akaba to 'come to his senses', knowing he wouldn't._

_Akaba never seemed to mind it that much._

"_You're coming with me, Fucking Red Eye."_

_Akaba smirked; _ _ **an invitation disguised as an easily dismissable sentence** _ _. He still chose to fiddle with his response. "I do not drink coffee."_

"_You don't have to." Hiruma turned around, walking down the raised carpet floors. Akaba's fingers were still on the copper strings of his guitar, feet against the stool's rest when he only glanced at Hiruma._

_As expected, the progression was unfinished. Akaba knew Hiruma would not take no for an answer. The quarterback turned back to him, blue eyes sharp. "Are you just gonna sit there and stare, Fucking Red Eye? Get up."_

_So he did, he had no problem with joining the devil. It was after school hours, anyway._

Tonight, they'd spent an hour and some change looking at football footage. With every review they had, the time seemed to progress slower than it should. Hiruma knew this, and he knew that it was only relative to how much time he wanted to delegate to analysis, and how much he wanted to delegate to his… _their_ sessions. The first semester of the second year in Saikyoudai was an odd score for Akaba to adapt to, and the guitarist could bet on Hiruma feeling even an _inkling_ of the same thing. On these nights, Akaba and Hiruma made eye contact considerably more times than Hiruma did with Mamori, and on these nights the two geniuses would be done way too quickly for their own good, so Hiruma came up with an idea that stumped the red eyed fullback on the very first day it was mentioned, around several months ago.

"_Put that guitar down and look at me, Fucking Red Eye." Hiruma plopped back onto his swivel chair, his body wasn't facing Akaba. He should have known the beat would diverge from that statement alone; Hiruma never cared enough to tell Akaba to put his guitar down, even during team meetings. Akaba did look on silently, not looking fazed until Hiruma looked him dead in the eyes and said: "You know how to kiss?"_

_The question caught him off guard. It pulled a note down lower than it should be. He nodded with a blink._

"_That doesn't answer the question."_

_Akaba was not confused. "It does." He cooly stated, closing his eyes and not bothering to watch Hiruma's face. The next statement came out smoother than it should, especially for someone who wasn't _ _**planning** _ _on kissing Hiruma anytime soon. "If you wish for a demonstration, you should have been more specific. Anyone could nod to a baseless question like that."_

"_Specifics are lost on people like you, guitar-freak." Hiruma's sharp brows arched, still maintaining his giant grin. He was aiming to provoke him. "You either bluff or you show me, right here and now."_

_He was not provoked, but he did give Hiruma his rightful answer. From then on, it became more and more clear to Akaba that there was a _ _**clear **g_ _ap of experience in this particular field, and such a gap could only be exposed if either one of them loses control._

"The freshman line ensemble of Enma… they look formidable." Akaba closed in, mentally noting that their analysis was coming to an end. "Though 'looking' formidable doesn't hold the same ring as _being_ so. Most of them," Akaba motioned to the stillframe Hiruma had on screen, it showed another freshman linebacker on the move of an interception, "Focus their center around their chests, not their cores. It would be easy for an experienced linebacker to overtake their flow."

He could have said a '_faster'_ linebacker rather than experienced, but speed is only relevant to the mise of its composer. Having speed, and knowing how to use your speed were not synonymous realms of expertise.

Hiruma smirked, playing the footage over and over and scrutinizing, visualizing what Akaba had surmised. "_Kekeke_, it's too obvious." He leaned back and shook his head. "They give off that impression because of their heel-strides. Any remarkably fast opponent in their shoes would see through that in an instant." He detailed all possibilities for a cease to Enma's new linemen, the both of them running through every method for every single one of their members in their colossal team. Out of this, they came up with many different plays and conglomerated all of them into at least four, whittling down all of the less impertinent ones to the lesser ranked teams. Some of the ace plays cannot be performed by other teams outside of their ace squad, so the easier strategies would be passed down rather than discarded.

After their reviewing ended, Hiruma had shut off his laptop. The entire time, Akaba had his guitar on him, casually playing passing notes as he eyed everything Hiruma showed him. Now that it was over, he started off with a chord progression, one that was as polite as the ambiance of the streets outside. He felt into _leggiero_, his ears taking in the notes and sounds of Hiruma quietly doing something in the kitchen area. Both progressions were in unison, and Akaba wondered what Hiruma had in store for him now; normally, any of their makeout sessions start as sudden as a balloon pop, but it always ended up not being too fast or too slow. A satisfying _andante_, but today things seemed to be especially slow.

_The pace will pick up pretty soon_. Hiruma's rhythm was _predictably_ unpredictable. It always has been, and always will be.

Hiruma quietly placed his empty coffee cup in the sink, he could hear Akaba playing his guitar in the living room, now that he was sitting on the couch. Blue eyes turned to look at him; the fullback's eyes were closed. They almost _always_ were whenever he was playing his guitar. It was not overlooked, the entire team knew that talking with Akaba meant little to no eye contact _unless_ he was engaged. It was difficult to correctly engage Akaba, since the guitarist only paid attention to what was necessary to pay attention to, very unlike the majority of the Saikyoudai Wizards.

Akaba was one of those people that Hiruma, admittedly for the life of him, could _not _control. There was a reason why he barely engaged in any conversation with him in public, outside of team practice orders and meager things regarding the members' training. Directly talking to him the way he did with all the other fearful _idiots_ would not grant Hiruma the reaction he was always used to getting. Aside from Agon, Hiruma's threatening nature could make _even_ Banba shake, and that's only because fear overrules anything for non-geniuses. Funnily enough, Agon was basically _just that_, yet he was obviously never scared of Hiruma's schemes. He used to work _with_ him years ago, so he knows the trick of the trade. Saikyoudai's football team would _yield_ to anything Hiruma orders them to, even the overconfident Yamato had no other directive to do otherwise. Akaba, on the other hand…

He always did what he was _supposed to_, not what he was _told_. He had no reason to grow anxious over anything Hiruma did. He could read Hiruma well, _way too well._

At first, it bothered the quarterback. Then, he'd quickly recall that this was the same individual who managed to outclass _him_ in gathering information on all of Japan's teams. It'd be hard to believe that a reticent, music obsessed, red-eyed guitar-holstering _weirdo_ could outperform the devil quarterback in the field of _knowing_, because Hiruma knew a lot. That was not to say he didn't know anything about Akaba either, for they both have experience from being captains of their highschool teams. They were information _hogs_, eating up and digesting everything they saw, everyone they encountered; they would make space in their mental archives for important people and important instances, and filter out the rest for later.

Numbers, patterns, and probabilities made the most sense to a brain like Hiruma's. Rhythm, flow, and measure made the most sense to a brain like Akaba's.

Somehow, when they are both analyzing footage and adapted strategies of other teams, these two completely different dynamics worked satisfyingly well together.

_Harmonious_: The very first word Akaba cropped up during the earlier days of him being pulled aside for his analytical abilities. Back then, sitting in the clubhouse's lounge room occasionally strumming out notes while Hiruma would glaze through his laptop's changing screen was a simple routine. Mamori was the right hand in digging through all of the information Hiruma would throw at her, but as a fellow former captain… the comprehension level was _very different_ compared to the manager and her quarterback.

The two of them, Akaba and Hiruma, captains of the Bando Spiders and the Deimon Devil Bats respectively, were now on the _same _team. It was _the _deadly alliance that nobody else knew about; Akaba could pinpoint the weaknesses of _every _player and team they looked at, and Hiruma would devise ways to take said teams and team members down. Hiruma was the one to _loudly _hold the chords to notoriety while Akaba slipped through the lines, like phantom notes to a blackened composition. You wouldn't be able to notice his lingering signatures on their plays, unless you were on the team.

But even the team themselves didn't know the extent of their adherence. At some point, it turned into what it was now. Akaba found out after a while, that despite the amount of times they both made out, the rhythm between them always remained the same. Outside of their sessions, everything was normal; Hiruma ordered the team as expected, Akaba was kind of _there_ just existing as a veteran member rather than a coinciding captain, and nobody was none the wiser.

It was their secret, and they were excellent contenders at hiding it.

Akaba strummed once, and suddenly found himself needing to tune his guitar. The strings were not fresh, but every note he's played has been as crisp as it could be. Though literally_ just now_… the natural note his fingertips conjured didn't sound right. Neither did the silence in the kitchen sound right either. He felt eyes on him again.

"_Fuu,_" Akaba vocally sighed, "Is there a reason for your owlish behavior?" He wouldn't get a direct answer from him, obviously. "You've been looking at me oddly over the past few weeks."

"_Kekekeke," _Hiruma laughed to himself, "I thought you'd be smart enough to get it, Fucking Red Eye." Akaba can hear him walk around again. The pace had picked up, Akaba's fingers flattered the room for an _accelerando_. The footsteps got closer, and he could hear Hiruma's exhale. "Put the guitar down."

That was their cue. Whenever Akaba was asked to put his guitar down, that meant that Hiruma wanted to engage with his lips again. His introductions did not have a buildup; it would start literally _right after_ Akaba's hands left his strings.

Akaba didn't budge. The beat had only _just begun_. He spoke lowly while playing a few soft notes. "There's desire in your rhythm."

Hiruma was standing by the couch, he went around the couch slowly, eyeing the fullback guitarist in the same fashion as a lion stalking its prey. When he was to Akaba's left, he placed two fingers on the guitar's heel, stopping Akaba's notes abruptly. An animalistic melody cropped up in Akaba's mind, he looked up at Hiruma's grinning face.

"_Kekekeke_…" He laughed, tracing his fingers along the strings, grasping the guitar by the neck. He made no move to take it from him, it would spoil the cadence. "Stating the obvious _again_. Now," Akaba can feel his grip tighten, still not enough to threaten the fullback, "Put your fucking guitar down."

Akaba blinked, red eyes fluttered quickly before he casually removed Hiruma's hand from the guitar's neck. _Seems like he's learned from last time_, when Hiruma asked him to 'stop playing' and Akaba, suddenly sporting a quirky (almost annoying) rhythm, stopped his playing but didn't put his guitar away. It got in the way of literally every maneuver their lips embarked in, fiddling in their makeout session and Hiruma got so annoyed, he threatened to shoot him in the face.

Akaba played _one_ chord, looked at Hiruma and noted his expression. It matched the chord perfectly; a suspended fourth, meant to embody tension. It this case, it was a delightful tension, seeing as Hiruma's eye had twitched. Akaba leaned away from Hiruma to get his guitar case, putting his guitar in but not closing it.

Hiruma smiled now, _as expected;_ he knew Akaba would play his fucking guitar after their little session, and he didn't even control whether or not he should. It was no longer a factor of him not being able to. It's just that Hiruma didn't _want_ to; Akaba is way too useful as an independent _body_, not as a latchkey servant.

"It's down." Akaba placed the case back on the ground. Hiruma went to it and pushed it towards his desk, several feet from the both of them. Akaba frowned at the odd action; a _sforzando_ tune started lingering in his mind.

Hiruma turned to him and sauntered to the couch. "Can't have you fucking tempted to pull that out on me, Fucking Red Eye." He came in front of him and plopped right down on Akaba's lap, pushing himself towards the fullback and kissing him on the spot. Their lips worked in tandem, Akaba would move to supplant the symphony, which was normal paced but _deliciously_ rough.

Akaba pulled away, their foreheads touching as he looked into Hiruma's eyes with a smirk. The beat remained playful, _hungry_. "And why is that?"

Hiruma went in on him again, making Akaba lean until his mid back touched the couch. At this point, their lips were creating more noise than the rhythm Akaba had cropped up, every pull was accompanied with a soft smack. The quarterback's sharp nails starting trailing up Akaba's taut bicep. "You did so last time."

"There was discord in your touches." Akaba tilted his head, their foreheads parted. "You did not forge a tempo that matched your lips, so I had to remind you." He came forward and gave Hiruma a soft gentle peck, _completely_ contrasting the rough and wanton way they were sucking face.

"And what was _that_ just now?" Hiruma and Akaba kissed again. The quarterback's hands were lost in Akaba's red hair, he moved his body close until their abdomens were together. He pulled away with a loud smack. "Hmm?"

Akaba's lips curved up so daringly it made Hiruma want to bite them right off. "Another reminder."

Hiruma didn't give him room to breathe after that. He kissed Akaba _hard_, and Akaba knew it was because he was right. In their last makeup sessions, Hiruma's patchy and harsh kisses were not coupled with rough, pressing and gripping hands. His hands were soft the last time, wandering all over Akaba's arms and midsection in gentle strokes like feathers, notes sliding up and down because the contrast was off intonation. Tonight though, Hiruma's nails were gripping onto his scalp, his body was rudely pressed against his, and his lips were practically _assaulting_ Akaba's.

_He's making a good show of looking like it doesn't bother him_, Akaba smiled into his kiss, _only time will tell where the beat lies._

And _lie_, it has. One hand went down and under Akaba's shirt, warm fingers outstretched against his toned abs. The beat switched, and Hiruma exhaled when Akaba assuaged a hand on his hip. Hiruma pulled away and nearly swatted it off. "No touching."

"In this symphony," Akaba blinked and looked at him, "Your scale holds no boundaries. Physical touch is a boundary, and you know it. My hands upon you are welcome."

This is why Hiruma entertained him like this; Akaba _knew_ what to say and when to say it, and he never crumbled under the pressure of the devil's glare. Hiruma in question, looked amused by his sudden declaration. "_Kekeke, is that so?_"

"It _is_ so." Then Akaba placed his hand on the small of Hiruma's back this time, pulling him close and making their chests tough. Both of their breaths mingled in the air. "I read rhythms like this exceptionally well. You make it very obvious."

Did he want to control Akaba? Not at all, but did he want to _look_ like he was controlling the guitarist? _Abso-fucking-lutely._ Hiruma tensed his hand against Akaba's abs, letting his nails touch warm skin. "You state the very obvious." The hand that was busy in Akaba's hair started to stroke backwards before abruptly gripping Akaba's hair and pulling him forward until their noses touched. "You know what I want."

"Out of this play? Not at all." Akaba smirked, deep voice feigning curiosity. "Make it more apparent. You're leading as the conductor."

Hiruma's lips were on him again, their tongues _wrestled_. Hiruma's was busy pushing and prodding at the notes to this makeout's melody, while Akaba was busy coercing Hiruma's tongue, putting the notes back into place before they could get scrambled into obscurity. Unlike Hiruma, Akaba had experience with kissing and sensuality, _that_ much was a given considering his looks and his toned build. The quarterback was clearly hiding the fact that he wasn't as skilled as the fullback, but Akaba didn't mind.

That made things fun, especially because Hiruma's rhythm was running _wild_ at the moment.

Saliva was exchanged, Hiruma's hands started glazing all over Akaba's torso. His sweater was still on, and Hiruma's advances made it clear that he wanted it _off_. Akaba stayed conservative, keeping one hand on Hiruma's back and the other on the back of his thigh, edging him, encouraging the wild makeout that went on for a few more minutes.

When they broke away, Hiruma was suckling (almost teething) at Akaba's bottom lip. A trail of saliva followed the two, and Hiruma's hand started playing the wandering game again. The beat changed, the tempo started to slow down, and Akaba could see the promiscuous glint in the quarterback's eyes.

"Let's try something." Hiruma said. He removed his hand from Akaba's hair, tracing shapes along his navel.

"_Fuu_," Akaba closed his eyes with a tiny smile; the devil _always_ had something new in mind. "What are we exercising now?"

Hiruma moved back a little so that he can prop his knees upwards. "You'll figure it out." They made out again, Akaba found himself situating both hands on Hiruma's thighs. It was the tiny nudge Hiruma made against him, the tug of his fingers against his neck, and his nails tickling Akaba's palm that made the guitarist open his eyes for a moment before closing them again in actualization. He can feel Hiruma smiling into the kiss, pulling away to inhale and almost ghost a chuckle before attacking Akaba's lips again. He didn't have to say a _word_; Akaba was already pulling Hiruma in by his hips, holding his thighs and standing up with the devil quarterback wrapping his long legs against his waist.

He eyed the floor while kissing Hiruma. The tempo picked right back up, but it wasn't as fast as it used to be. Akaba can feel a _rallentando_ coming.

They ended up in Hiruma's bedroom, a separate section of the apartment. Akaba had no difficulty carrying Hiruma, he was thin and weighed less than him. His muscle definition was very lean and little, while Akaba was more ample, _supple_ in some places and taut in others. He laid Hiruma onto the bed and pulled away from him, _purposely_ putting a pause to their symphony. He went to close the bedroom door.

"It's just us two, Fucking Red Eye." Hiruma said, catching his breath quite quickly. He did an average job at hiding the impatience in his tone from Akaba, despite knowing that hiding from him was of no use. "Why are you closing the door?"

"_Fuu_…" Akaba chuckled a little. "I am being courteous." He returned to Hiruma, sliding himself above the quarterback. Hiruma looked like he was scowling at the joke Akaba just made, using his legs to aggressively pull Akaba's lower body to his. Akaba started kissing him as Hiruma invited him to, and Hiruma's hands roamed his body again. Akaba took his kisses to Hiruma's neck, more than striked when he heard that sharp exhale coupled with the quarterback's hand gripping his hair again. The rhythm was borderline sensual, Akaba immediately picked up the way Hiruma started syncing his movements with Akaba's grasp on his waist. It was a funny thought; Hiruma, of _all people_, giving off the tune of _sensuality_, one of the most vulnerable verses in body language. He was somebody that was supposed to _never_ be vulnerable, yet here he was...

Akaba started to chuckle into the nape of Hiruma's neck, more amused that his breath and deep voice made the quarterback shiver. "_Fuu…"_

Hiruma cackled. "Don't make that _stupid_ noise in my fucking ear."

"Then remove your hand from my head." Akaba pulled himself up with _ease_ to look at Hiruma, obviously teasing the quarterback. "That way, you wouldn't be hearing my voice at all. Of course, that's not something you'd want to do."

Hiruma smiled, his sharp teeth showing. "You talk too much, _kekeke_."

"I speak just enough." Akaba almost winked. Hiruma caught that action and started to laugh, messing up the damn rhythm again so Akaba had to shut him up with a kiss. Hiruma's voice stifled into a tiny groan, and then Akaba pulled away just to annoy him.

"Losing stamina, Fucking Red Eye?" Hiruma's hand went down to Akaba's chest. "Come back down here and fucking kiss me."

Following the symphony, he did just that, and he made sure to push himself onto Hiruma's body as he did so. He started to grind _tormentingly _slow against Hiruma, his waist moving so perfectly in contrast with their fast paced kissing. Hiruma's groans grew deeper, almost inaudible and shaky at one point, as Akaba's hands started pushing his thighs up even further, fingers purposely ghosting _just above _his butt.

Hiruma pulled Akaba's hair, forcing him back to look at the quarterback. Blue eyes were so fiery and _hungry,_ the beat switched again and Hiruma's voice was breathy. "Take your fucking sweater off, guitar freak. _Now_."

Akaba chuckled, he sat up and undid the buttons, exposing his toned torso to the quarterback. Hiruma brought himself up, eyes on his prize as his hands freely traced and stroked Akaba's body. He started kissing Akaba's chest, licking against his right nipple and working his thumb against the left. It elicited a sigh from the fullback, his breath hitched whenever Hiruma would graze a pointy tooth against the soft flesh, teasing _him _now. Hiruma's fingers scratched at his back, he took himself lower while looking at Akaba's face, seeing him exhale and quietly groan from his touches and licks didn't grant him the coercion he wanted.

Out of nowhere, he _dropped _down to Akaba's pants and nibbed out the liner of his boxers. He started pulling Akaba's groin towards him by his teeth, making the guitarist stare at him as his blue eyes gazed into Akaba's.

The way Hiruma's looked up at him to see his reaction could turn _anyone_ on… that's all he lived for; the reaction, the _encore_, and though they would remove their shirts in the midst of making out, what Hiruma was doing now was completely new. He tugged even more, making Akaba move forward a bit; that rallentando was coming, what he wanted was made very clear at that moment.

Though… It never got _this _far.

"_Fuu_," Akaba closed his eyes, amused at the change of pace despite the rhythm staying the same, "Finally."

Hiruma pulled away roughly, making Akaba's boxer liner slap against his v-line. "It's been obvious since the beginning, Fucking Red Eye."

That is true, but, if Akaba wanted to be an asshole… "As the conductor, it is your job to _show_ me where the symphony takes us. If you'd made haste, I would have played along with you, but you chose to toy around and wait."

Hiruma stared at him for a few seconds, and _chose _to roll his eyes instead of retorting. "Just fucking take your _pants _off already."

Akaba started undoing his belt, Hiruma watched him intently. Akaba shifted to sit on his ass, pulling his pants all the way down and dropping them to the floor. Hiruma started moving in tandem, his shirt was off already, and he worked on his pants after seeing Akaba strip. Being the least conservative out of the two, he removed _both_ his underwear and pants at the same time. He had Akaba lay him back down, and Akaba kissed him again on the lips, on his neck, all while grinding against Hiruma's groin.

Hiruma knew he couldn't stop teasing him, Akaba finding amusement in how readable he was now. Hiruma eyed him, clearly expecting more only to get more annoyed at the damned _teasing_. "Get a move on, guitar freak."

"You made the proposal." Akaba reminded him, red eyes on blue. "You are the conductor of this symphony, not me. You're setting the pace."

Hiruma groaned loudly. "Do I have to do _everything_ for idiots like you?"

He didn't take that personally. "As the team's captain, yes you do."

An inhale, before he cascaded into a light chuckle. "_Keke. _Alright then." Hiruma looked to his nightstand. He reached over and opened the first drawer, picking out two items that Akaba realized pushed the beat forwards, the meter changing. Hiruma held both objects in front of him; it was a small bottle of lube, and a penetrative sex toy. He thrusted them into Akaba's face. "Here."

Akaba took the lube first, but eyed the sex toy with mild disinterest. Both were obviously meant to be used on Hiruma but… the toy would set the melody back several paces. Akaba already had skilled fingers to accommodate for it anyway, so he took the toy and placed it back on the nightstand. "I don't need this."

"How bold of you, Fucking Red Eye." Hiruma laughed. "_Kekeke_, you're starting to sound like Fucking Wild Hair now." It _does_ sound like something Yamato would say. The difference though is that people would believe him by what he says, while in regards to the guitarist, belief comes from _word of mouth_.

Akaba closed his eyes and smirked again, despite knowing that the symphony was _beyond chaotic_ now. There will always be ups and downs, slides and glides, all of those were necessary to any piece, but _this_ damned melody Hiruma kept hitching would lose its flow, almost to the point of it becoming randomized.

_Syncopated_, Akaba confirmed. Such only worked well under _some_ cir_cum_stances. This wasn't one of them.

He and Hiruma made out, Akaba nudging Hiruma's already inviting legs open to slide his hand down to his ass. Fingers laced with lube, he ran his index along the ring of Hiruma's asshole, smirking to himself when Hiruma's breath was hitched. He pushed against it, wanting to hear more to this newfound beat, but Hiruma was repressed, _stifling…_

This is literally the reason why Akaba resorted to _teasing_ him during their _sessions;_ it's because Hiruma just would not _conduct_ accordingly, so it messed up the damn song as a whole.

If Hiruma wasn't going to add any chords to the melody, then a kiss would surely do the trick. His lips maneuvered so _deliciously_ over Hiruma's novice mouth. He shifted his weight, moving from being on top of Hiruma to lying by his side while making out with him, fingers still flicking and teasing the quarterback's entrance. A transition was coming; Akaba deepened the kiss, stopping Hiruma's assault for a moment and almost _subduing_ him at the same time. Without warning, his finger slid into Hiruma's entrance.

"_Mmm_!"

A cadence. There was more to that sound, but it remained as a cadence.

Hiruma tried hard to make it look like he wasn't _another finger_ away from moaning aloud. Akaba could tell this easily, so he exercised the tight walls by circling and pressing his index finger, coaxing his entrance to stretch. Hiruma suddenly pursed his lips shut.

"Hmm?" Akaba pulled back with a quiet smack, seeing the quarterback exhale. _Oh_, Akaba blinked, he shouldn't be puzzled. They _were_ practically eating other's faces, so that made sense...

Now he wanted a different rhythm, one that at least followed through with _actual_ music theory, and not this contradicting mess Hiruma created. Though, he'll have to admit, the cacophonous air around them has a certain charm to it. That charm can't be relinquished until Hiruma makes an actual sound, one in agreeance to how much his body _ached_ under Akaba's dexterous fingers. He inserted another digit, now thrusting two fingers deep into the quarterback while suckling and teasing the crook of Hiruma's neck.

It was driving Hiruma _insane_.

He could only _gasp_ at the pleasure his ass was being given, with every stroke Hiruma had to bite his lip to stifle his own voice. He _can't_ show that this was what he wanted over the past few weeks, even if Akaba makes it out to be the most obvious thing in the world- _Actually, that was me_. Yes, Hiruma _did_ say it was obvious from the start, though he never gave pointers as to _what_ exactly was obvious.

His thoughts were cut off when he let out a ghost of a mewl feeling Akaba's fingers sped up, hitting him too near a _deep, sinful place_. _Repeatedly._

He started to pant voicelessly, Akaba still on his neck. Hiruma abruptly grabbed the guitarist's dick and started stroking, the other hand scratched at Akaba's back. "You're not gonna stroke me, _asshole_?"

It was unreasonably hard to say that without stammering. He had to slightly arch his back to get his words out clearly. _Ugh_.

"My other hand is busy holding you in place." Akaba said right into his ear, his deep voice nearly made Hiruma quiver. He left his neck to look Hiruma in the eyes. "You just can't seem to stay as still as your apparent silence. It's throwing the beat off."

His other hand was snaked behind Hiruma, gripping his left thigh to keep both legs open. Hiruma wanted to smartly say something, but his voice got stuck in his throat when Akaba suddenly thrusts _real hard_ into him, finding that _perfect_ spot. Hiruma's gasp shadowed the moan in his throat, it didn't make it any better that Akaba was watching his _face_ too.

"_Fuu…_ Did I strum a deep chord within you?" He sounded _so goddamned amused_, Hiruma wanted to shoot him. "You seem to love this melody, Hiruma, yet you're trying too hard not to show it."

"Stop _fucking_… _talking_." Hiruma removed the hand that was on Akaba's dick to slap him in the chest. He quickly returned the hand back to stroking. "Just _finger fuck _me quietly, Fucking Red Eye."

He continued on, the quarterback arching and trying to maintain a steady pace of breath, he felt his own navel pool with warmth, and it was only getting hotter by the second. Hiruma's strokes were mismatched with Akaba's thrusting, but that was okay since he was not experienced. The melody, with how wild and unkempt it was, kept Akaba intrigued. Hiruma can feel him hardening under his palm, but he had to hurry because… Because Akaba's fingers were too busy hitting that _sweet spot_, and it was becoming exponentially difficult to hold in his sounds, his _moans_...

"_Fuu_... Impatient, aren't we?"

Hiruma's rapid stroking was noted by the guitarist. His other hand made its way to the back of Akaba's neck and he shook his head. "If I make a proposal, I am the one who sets the pace." Hiruma reminded him, fingers laced in his red hair. "Who's the impatient one _now_? _Kekeke…"_

Akaba kept thrusting into his sensitive spot, Hiruma spoke as if he wasn't practically trembling from the immense sparks of pleasure running up his spine. Hiruma's hand tightened its grip on Akaba's hair, he chose to keep his mouth shut now because even his _legs_ started to quiver. The guitarist went back down on him, and bit the crook of his neck.

_For fuck sake…_ Hiruma's eyes rolled to the back of his head, his breath was shaky. _What a bothersome __**bastard**__ he is…_

As if Akaba read his damned mind, he switched the beat up. Akaba's fingers straightened and instead of rubbing against his prostate, they were not in direct contact with those sweet bundle of nerves, and he slowed his pace down significantly. Akaba felt Hiruma pull his hair _so hard_ it made his head go back a few inches, the other hand had a vice-like grip on his dick too.

"You fucking _red-eyed piece of shit…_" Hiruma glared at him. _How did he…? _"Why did you-"

Akaba on the other hand, shrugged. That single action made Hiruma stop talking. "You didn't want to finish." He said, calm as fuck when compared to the heated quarterback beside him. "That is what your rhythm indicated to me."

Akaba talks as if they had sex together many times when in fact, this was their _first_. Hiruma would not imagine anyone else in this position because nobody understood him the way Akaba did, which was weird. Nobody _gets it _like Akaba does, that's what makes it easy to keep secrets with him.

"You're fucking wrong, _genius._" Hiruma bit back, annoyed that Akaba's fingers weren't pounding the fuck out of him anymore.

"Would I be wrong?" Akaba smiled. "That means that you'd want me to finish you off." Essentially, that is what he was doing; him making Hiruma cum would mean that he, not the _conductor_, finished this part of the symphony. What happens next will be decided by the intermission. "Is that what you want?"

Hiruma wiggled his hips, Akaba's fingers shifting inside him. _That_ was his first answer, his second answer came in the form of very polite words: "_Fuck me until I'm finished then_, Fucking Red Eye_."_

Hiruma had pass the torch to him. Akaba would be the one setting the pace now.

The quarterback felt himself _shake_ when Akaba curled his fingers and started full on _pounding_ him, his very fingertips rubbing against those _fucking nerves_. Hiruma's exhale became shaky, his pants became more and more vocal up until he felt a striking sensation in his groin, when he suddenly loudly groaned into Akaba's ear.

"_Auh-"_ He was forced to shut up on his own, Akaba stopped treating his neck to look at Hiruma. He _appeared_ to shake his head.

"_Fuu_, you're _still_ trying to suppress how good this feels?" Akaba closed his eyes and smiled. Oh _dear_, that smile spelled a lot of trouble for Hiruma's insides. "Alright then..."

He pushed him to the edge, his strong arm pounding into him, fingers now _poking_ his prostate. Hiruma dick started to twitch with a need for release, and it was building up way too quickly for Hiruma to handle. All of his control went out the window for a split second, feeling his release hot and quick all over his own abdomen. His hand shook around Akaba's dick before he grasped at the bedsheet, a high-pitched inhale came from his mouth. He felt the fullback's breath against his neck, his arm slipped out from beneath him to pull himself up and over Hiruma's body.

He and Hiruma looked into one another's eyes for a moment, and it was because Akaba didn't do anything to keep the pace going. His pause made the beat slower, and the guitarist's red eyes grew a little soft at the slightly panting body beneath him. He descended and placed the _lightest_ kiss on Hiruma's lips, pulling away and then doing it again, testing the waters, seeing how Hiruma would react to a correct _rallentando._ He grinded slowly, almost lovingly on Hiruma while pecking his lips with chaste kisses, and with each kiss Hiruma's lips grew hungrier for more. Their low groans added to the rhythm, and this time they kissed deeply, grooving against each other's bodies, Hiruma feeling at every muscle and curve on Akaba's back.

_Adagio._ Hiruma did have a taste for slower pace. Their synced rhythm was deliciously slow, _decadent; _it got Akaba rock hard quite _quickly._

"_Mmm…_" Akaba hummed into Hiruma's lips. It made the quarterback laugh though.

Their foreheads touched again, Hiruma bit his bottom lip when he felt Akaba's erection by his own. "Stop being so fucking feelsy with me, it's fucking sappy."

"Stop fighting the rhythm." Akaba smoothly pulled Hiruma's legs over his waist, his tip ghosting against Hiruma's entrance. By _fuck_, that and his alluringly calm voice made the quarterback shiver. "I'm now the one who dictates where the symphony will take us." And with that, Akaba suddenly sat up, his dick still chilling by Hiruma's ass. He grabbed both of Hiruma's hands off of his back, holding both his wrists with one hand while the other straddled the unruly blonde by his waist.

Hiruma frowned, he looked at Akaba's hands and started to shake. "Why the _fuck _are you holding me down, Fucking Red Eye?"

He didn't answer immediately at first, too busy nudging Hiruma's legs apart and forcing his fighting hands back with ease. It was time to speed the pace up, _correctly._

"You kept on messing with the rhythm of our symphony." Akaba's hand had a tight grip on _both_ Hiruma's wrists, plastering them above his head. "Unfortunately, it is now my job to correct all the mistakes you've made."

He didn't give Hiruma any time to breathe, before the blonde could say _anything_ else Akaba's dick was already inside of him. Stretching his hole, Hiruma almost _shrieked_ at the intrusion, his hands shook under Akaba's vice-like grip. He kept himself deep in there, feeling Hiruma's walls flex around his length, before he eased himself back. Hiruma's body _shivered_.

"_Uhh…"_ His sharp nails tried grazing against Akaba's fingers though Akaba shifted his hand to keep Hiruma's palms open, preventing him from scratching. A low groan escaped Akaba's lips because _hell_ was Hiruma tight, and hotly suffocating his manhood. He lowered himself down to Hiruma's neck, and started rocking him with a slow stroke, instantly making the blonde moan. Hiruma's legs fought to reconcile, while his body kept pressing onto him, wanting _more_.

Hiruma gasped, the lingering pain turned into _pleasure_, irresistible pleasure, and Akaba knew he was ready for their symphony's sonata. Deciding he was growing _tired_ of Hiruma trying to flaunt dominance, Akaba used his free hand to lift both of Hiruma's legs up until his thighs were near his chest, he gripped at his left thigh, pushing himself all the way into Hiruma. The blonde's pants became short, spotty moans, their skin slapped roughly as the pace picked up. Hiruma's sharp fingers uncontrollably clenched and unclenched; he needed to hold something, _now._

"_Ah! Huh-!_ Let go, let go, let go, let _fucking _go of me!" Hiruma's beat was unbearably satisfying now, so Akaba decided to be lenient enough on letting him coerce, especially because Hiruma's hands were _desperate_ for a grasp of his perfect rhythm. The moment he released Hiruma's wrist, the quarterback's hands went straight to his back, scratching him while his moans grew louder as a way to reclaim some form of _forte_.

That only encouraged Akaba to break his forte down even further, faster, _harder_…

"_Huh, huh, auh…"_ Hiruma couldn't stop himself from moaning, his legs tightened against Akaba's waist and sweat started to form on his neck. While his face contorted into _sinful_ pleasure, he realized Akaba was watching him the whole time, enjoying the show of Hiruma being _under_ someone, being under _him_. He was not the dominant force in this new symphony, and Akaba was rocking him into whether _he_ wanted to go, not letting the quarterback take control for even a _second._

And holy _fuck_, did it turn Hiruma _on_.

"You like this transition." Akaba noted, his deep voice oozing pure sultry. Hiruma cursed in his head, _shit…_ "You enjoy being beneath me, don't you?"

"_Nnngh…" _Hiruma's eyes rolled back for a split second. "Shut the fuck up."

"Was this desire the reason for your… meddling rhythm lately?" Akaba was amused, fucking _entertained._ Nobody would _dare_ speak to Hiruma like this, but then again… nobody ever got close to fucking him in the first place, and Akaba's stroke was _too damn good_ for Hiruma's sake.

"_Shut, your-auh-fuck-ooo-_" Hiruma closed his eyes and arched his back, his body was on fucking _fire_.

"_Fuu_," Akaba kissed his neck, his voice tickled Hiruma's pointy ear, "I find this melody of yours to be… _cute_."

Hiruma scoffed. "Cute? _Uh-_ fuck _off_, I'm not cu-" Akaba silenced him with a rough kiss, followed by quickening his pace. He'd nearly pull all the way out only to slam back into Hiruma's warm insides. The quarterback, unable to fight Akaba in physical strength, could only whine into the kiss while his legs shook. Akaba was getting him so _close…_

Akaba pulled away, situating his hands on the crook between Hiruma's hips and legs, bringing Hiruma's legs to his shoulders. He reeled back and started _pulling_ Hiruma hips down to his dick with every thrust, the quarterback grasped the pillow beneath him and folded it over his face, moaning and cursing loudly into the soft cushion.

Akaba took the pillow off of Hiruma's face. "I wish to hear your chords too, Hiruma." His smirk was attractive, _sexually appealing_. "You _are_ musically fit, you know." The quarterback moaned under his thrusts, _loud and clear_, it overtook the symphony's volume as a whole.

_Delightful_, he chuckled as Hiruma's walls clenched against him, the blonde cried out as he came for the second time tonight. Satisfied that he corrected the initial off-tune of their melody, he pulled himself out of Hiruma, watching the blonde close his shaky legs _immediately_ after being royally fucked.

His stomach was a complete mess of his own cum, Hiruma's hand relaxed itself in his own blonde hair and he opened his eyes to see Akaba in his naked glory. Good lord, did the guitarist look delicious with his light sweat making his toned upper chest and neck glisten. Hiruma too, was sweating, and it wasn't even _hot_ in the damn apartment.

The quarterback, despite inwardly taking in Akaba's body, scowled at him. "_Fuck you_." He spat out, and then he kicked Akaba on his side. "You aren't _shit_, Fucking Red Eye."

Why did he continue acting like this? Because it's how he is, and it also got on Akaba's nerves. Hiruma could tell the guitarist wanted pure submission to his own rhythm, but Hiruma was not somebody to mindlessly give into impulse. Desire is an impulse, so even if his voice was hoarse from their fucking, he'd still make it apparent that he wouldn't succumb to him for jack shit.

"_Fuu…" _Akaba sighed, shaking his head. "You're ruining the exposition."

The quarterback sat up brazenly. "_Fuck_ your exposition."

Hiruma was not expecting to see a weird glint in Akaba's eyes. That glint to anyone else looked _dangerous_, but right now, it made Hiruma's dick twitch_._ "Is that your way of saying you'd like _another_ symphony?"

"You're breathing heavier than usual, Fucking Red Eye." Hiruma taunted him, but Akaba had already _received_ his answer. "Your cardio won't last you another round, _kekekeke.._."

Hiruma was _shoved_ back down, and flipped over quicker than he could process, propped onto his knees with his elbows on the bed now. His ass faced Akaba, who took the liberty of spilling a bit of lube against Hiruma's entrance. He pushed on Hiruma's back, making him arch, and holding him there with his hands. The fullback plunged straight into the quarterback and thrusted into him so hard, it made Hiruma's knees lose balance, bumping his groin against the bed.

"_Ho-_" Hiruma's moans were stuck in his throat, his _entire _body was being pulled against Akaba's dick, every thrust rustling Hiruma's sweat-laced hair. What came out of his mouth when he closed his eyes, was a shrill moan that sounded way too feminine for the _both_ of them. Unable to take it, his loud mouth ass started pulling away from Akaba. His legs were so shaky he only limply fell forwards, having a second to relinquish the feeling of not being fucked so _good_ before the guitarist's hands gripped his hips again. A quick, husky '_fuu'_ came from him before he _straddled_ Hiruma against the bed, continuing to hit it hard from the back. Literally, Hiruma's mouth was stuck open and he nearly went cross-eyed.

He didn't think someone like Akaba, who was always calm and patient, could bang somebody at _this_ level of ruthlessness.

"_Fuuuuuuck_, _shit, shit, shit! Oh my-" _Hiruma gasped. He was _drowning_ in all this pleasure, _all of it_. "_Uhuh... huh… huh, ho- Fuck-ing Red-"_

"My name." Akaba's breath was felt on the back of his neck. "This piece requires my name."

"_Uh-_" Hiruma's voice went embarrassingly high. "_Fuck off_!" Akaba kept pounding him, it was clear that he wanted to _force _his name out of Hiruma's mouth. "_Fucking Red… Eye! F-fuck you-"_

Loud, obscene moans filled the room, filled the entire _apartment. _Akaba was certain that residents from a _couple doors_ away could hear Hiruma clearly. The symphony was now completely overruled by Hiruma's unadulterated sounds, _he_ had _become_ the symphony.

_My, is he a wondrous instrument to play…_ It was, in a normal person's terms, a _huge_ turn on for Akaba to guide a person like he would his own guitar, and the one individual who could _never_ be controlled or domineered, was currently being _worked _like an instrument.

Akaba let a deep groan, rearing Hiruma's ass back up since he started to fall forwards again so that he could hit that _sweet spot_ over and over. Hiruma practically _screamed_.

"_Uhuh! Aw fuck-fucking god dammit- UGGH!_" He threw his head into a pillow he had pulled from beside him to scream into it. "_MMM_!"

Akaba heard a muffled word that striked his tune for a moment. He pulled himself up from Hiruma's back. "What was that, Hiruma?" Akaba _bit_ his pointy ear. Hiruma muffled something that sounded like '_fuck off my ear'_ right after he obscenely moaned from the sensation. Akaba ignored that, and pulled Hiruma's head up by his hair. A _completely daring_ maneuver. "You were saying?"

"_Huh, hu- let go!"_ But Hiruma knew that the pulling only added to the pleasure. His insides quaked. "I didn't-_ooh_-say sh-it!"

"I heard my name." Akaba breathed against him. "Say it again, the melody _yearns_ for it."

As stated before, Hiruma was the symphony. It was only rightful that the melody would want to succumb to the mise of the conductor. _If only Hiruma was easy going…_

"Say it again," He repeated, "Or I'll stop."

Hiruma's syllables were muddled with every thrust. "If- you- stop- I'll- _shoot you dead_." He mewled by accident. "_Ah-oh my fucking- FUCK!"_ A gasp, Akaba no longer cared about his damn _guts_ apparently, and Hiruma was so _painfully close_ his body felt like molten lava.

His hands went behind him, trying to push at Akaba's thrusting hips before he could make him- "_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhh! Red-"_ He wanted Akaba to slow down, Hiruma didn't want to lose it. He didn't want to surrender to this music obsessed _weirdo-_

"_UH! OOOH!" _He shut his eyes, unable to keep them open. He felt like mush. "_Ak-uh-_"

Akaba was listening. Akaba was _fucking listening; _he could tell because the guitarist sped up, coercing him, _encouraging _him.

All the sense, all the boundaries, all the self-control Hiruma prided himself on went right out the window as he spilled, gripping the pillow for _dear life_ while Akaba was still pounding him with a finishing, syncopated beat. "_UUUH! AKABA-"_

He held him once Hiruma started to jerk involuntarily, keeping him still as he reached his own climax. Akaba's husked groan was etched into the back of Hiruma's mind as he came inside Hiruma, his essence hot within the quarterback.

"_Nnn…_" Hiruma simmered with a quivering groan, his head sank back into the pillow and a tiny moan escaped his lips when he felt Akaba trailing his nose against Hiruma's spine. The guitarist lifted his head back up, hands releasing Hiruma's hips and allowing the slim male to recuperate. Collapsing to his side in the midst of catching his breath, Hiruma reached back to slap at Akaba's side out of nowhere.

"I didn't say you could fucking cum inside me, Fucking Red Eye." He could only side eye him with a scowl that tried _way too hard_ to hide his satisfactory climax to the end of this piece.

Akaba took a deep breath and then chuckled. "You didn't need to." He laid down on Hiruma's back, his breath tickling the quarterback's spine again. Hiruma this time, notably made no move to shove him right off.

Usually, at the end of their makeout sessions, Hiruma would just get up and leave without a word, either that or he'd briskly tell Akaba to leave. He had all the power he could fool himself into having when they were making out, because it never required him to lose control. To play a tune of sensuality _warrants_ losing control; that was the whole point of sex, and right now Hiruma and he were catching their breaths in unison.

_What an odd end to our endeavors,_ Akaba's eyelashes fluttered against the blonde's skin. _It's as if he's forgotten for a moment-_

"Get the _fuck_ off my back, Fucking Red Eye. Quit breathing so damn heavy." Hiruma turned his head to side eye him, looking down. "_Kekeke, _you need an inhaler, guitar freak?"

_There it goes. _"_Fuu_," Akaba rested his chin on Hiruma's back; again, he didn't make any move to get him off, "Not at all." He paused for a moment. "You have a nice legato."

"_Kekeke_…" Hiruma shifted slowly to turn around. Akaba sat up, still in between Hiruma's legs. "Maybe when you're not blowing my fucking back out, I do."

"I would agree."

Hiruma went from keenly smiling to full-on glaring at him. He sat up to hit Akaba's forehead, _the nerve of this freak…_ "Clean me up."

Akaba obliged, albeit languidly. He took tissues from the bathroom and wiped Hiruma's chest clean of his cum. Hiruma watched him silently, smirking. The guitarist looked up once he was done; he blinked, wondering what note that smile entailed.

_Fuu_, he realized, _major seventh_. He can see satisfaction in that smile, one you'd get right after a good fuck. He'd know what that looks like. He threw the tissue out and then went to put his pants on. He noticed how Hiruma wasn't making any attempt to stand up.

"Get my robe for me."

The fullback guitarist looked at him again. "It is on your side of the room." It was; it was on the hanger, on the wall adjacent to the bed at least several feet away from Hiruma. It was closer to Hiruma than it was to him.

Hiruma blinked three times rapidly, looking annoyed. "I won't repeat myself, Fucking Red Eye."

"Why can't you walk," Akaba paused meaningfully after the word 'walk', knowing _damn well_ the reason behind why he couldn't, "To your closet and get it?"

"I'm your captain." Hiruma glared at him. That was not the right answer. "You do what I _tell_ you to."

And so he did. The robe was beige, and it stopped at Hiruma's lower thighs. "_Fuu_… this is quite feminine looking."

Hiruma snatched it from him and rolled his eyes. He slipped it on while sitting on his bed, and Akaba watched, looking as though he was waiting for a cue. Not finding any, he decided to pick his sweater back up from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder not really bothering to put it on at the moment. He casts another look at Hiruma; the devil quarterback was _already_ laying down, facing away from Akaba. He didn't even retort to Akaba calling his robe feminine, which was something he _would have _violently done under normal circumstances.

Akaba smiled to himself. Hiruma, the _devil_ quarterback, the one and only Control Tower of _Hell,_ was _too tired_ to curse at him. _That's_ how good he was fucked tonight. He turned and went back to exit the bedroom.

"_Where_ the fuck are you fucking going?"

Akaba turned to him, he was only halfway out. Hiruma had brandished a pistol out of seemingly nowhere, and he was pointing it at him. Akaba didn't budge. "There is no other cue to follow. I'm leaving."

"I didn't say you could leave."

Two blinks. "Nor did you tick otherwise." Akaba shortly laughed. _Shortly_. "What do you want?"

"What _else_, Fucking Red Eye? You can't be _this dense_, _kekeke_…" Hiruma placed the gun back under the bed, away from Akaba's sight, before he rested his arms behind his head. "Come here."

He wanted to actually sleep with him. Akaba could hear an oddly cute tune playing in the back of his head, slightly overshadowed by a sexual rhythm. The devil may be menacing, but Akaba just deconstructed him tonight, and of all the people Hiruma knew to threaten, he wasn't one of them.

He had _nothing_ to fear when it came to him.

He slid into bed, his taut arm going over Hiruma's midsection. Oddly enough, the rhythm right now called for physical contact, something that Hiruma would not permit unless if they were making out. That kind of contact as rough and hungry, this contact was sated and… mildly _intimate._

They laid in silence for a minute or two before Hiruma giggled again, seeing Akaba laying on his stomach with his other arm beneath a pillow. "You're gonna get morning wood sleeping like that, guitar freak."

Akaba lifted his head to shake it. "That does not happen to me."

"With me right next to you," Hiruma's blue eyes went low, "It might _just_ happen. _Kekeke."_

He allowed Hiruma get his 'last laugh' until he was done, before he'd say his last cadence. "_Fuu,_" he ran a hand through his red hair and closed his eyes away from Hiruma, "If you try any new instrumentation with me, practice will have to be coordinated by Agon instead. I'm sure you'd know that your legs are a very _important_ asset in football."

There was a pause, a _caesura_ once again. Akaba mentally braced himself for the feeling of a cold metal barrel pressed against his temple. Instead, what he got was a slap on his back that made his eyes shoot open. He winced.

"Shut the fuck up, Fucking Red Eye," Hiruma turned away from him, not letting Akaba see his face. "And go to fucking sleep. You better leave early tomorrow to drive your own ass back home, or else I'll shoot you."

Akaba knew that was definitely coming. It would raise questions if the other teammates saw both of them arriving to the court at the same time. The guitarist had his own car, so he didn't need to worry about transits. Though he knew that Hiruma wanted him to leave early for the sake of practice, he also knew that the captain quarterback wouldn't know what to do with himself if Akaba _stayed_ after a single session.

Whether it'd anger him, or mess with his rhythm, Akaba didn't know.

He looked at Hiruma. It had been a few minutes since he last spoke, but judging from the way his back rose and fell, he had already fallen asleep. Another ironic tune played in Akaba's mind, accompanied with something that sounded really close to a lullaby because it was almost _surreal_ to see the restless devil sleep so quietly.

He decided to conclude this exposition by bringing himself closer against the slimmer body, his nose touching the back of Hiruma's neck. Akaba smiled once he felt the quarterback unconsciously push back; now _this_ was a satisfying end...

* * *

Practice was easy-going. The Saikyoudai squad ran their usual 40 laps around the track, and everybody went into their corresponding routines; Akaba, Yamato and Agon practiced together, as they were the fastest in the team, while Ikkyu and Taka held it down with the football machines. Banba and Jumonji and the rest of the line were taking down tackle dummies. Hiruma, as usual, hawkeyed the entire time with Mamori beside him. She had just gotten a fresh batch of cool-off for the guys to use after practice.

Everyone went to the locker rooms after it was over. Hiruma was the first to freshen up, putting on his school uniform and was already seated, looking at things on his laptop. As the other teammates walked in, Akaba took his guitar from its resting position on the wall, and opened his locker before taking off his jersey. He moved on to his armor and once he was completely shirtless, he noted how the chatter in the room became mildly quieter, especially among the second year crew he knows all too well.

_They_ in particular, were eyeing him. Akaba pinpointed a suspenseful tune playing now.

He chose to ignore them for the first minute. Ikkyu and Agon exchanged looks, and Yamato leaned to Taka, who has eyes glued on his book.

"Look at his back." Yamato whispered, nudging the careless receiver. "You see that?"

Taka blinked up at Akaba's back, then blinked back down. "I see them."

"Since when?" Jumonji was speculating too. Agon and Ikkyu were near him, so they heard him clearly.

"Akaba's been getting _uber-busy_, apparently." Ikkyu's strong eyebrows raised with a sneer, and Agon stood up. He walked over to where Akaba stood with crossed arms, and confrontational demeanor.

Hiruma was sitting away from everyone else. He had his eyes on the laptop, but his ears were _geared_ on what Mop Head had to say.

"Yo, guitar trash." Agon leaned on the locker right next to him, a knowing smirk crossing his features. He normally does not address people on his own, but today… "What's with those marks on your back?"

The other guys, namely Yamato, Ikkyu, Jumonji and Banba to some extent, were listening in on what Akaba had to say. Akaba's locker was still open, he was grabbing a towel from it. He hummed in amusement, cropping up the perfectly _honest _lie. "I may have stricken a tempo that was a bit… too rough the other night."

He was the only one who caught the momentarily quickened pace of Hiruma's typing. His smirk grew wider.

As expected, Yamato was the first to praise him. He laughed, his laugh was attractive. "_Ah,_ that's my boy right there!" He patted Akaba's shoulder, Ikkyu said 'oni-sweet' or something to that effect, Jumonji and Banba chuckled while Agon nodded in approval.

"Didn't expect _you _off all people to get it in that well." Agon closed his eyes under his sunglasses, walking away. "Welcome to the club, _guitar trash_."

Akaba smirked, though he knew Hiruma heard that statement _loud and clear_. The team went into the shower rooms and freshened themselves up while the gossip sparked up. Mamori had overheard Ikkyu talking about it while he and the second year squad exited and she got flustered quite quickly. Hiruma texted her and told her to find him some sugar-free gum, because he was running out.

Akaba spent a lot of time in the shower, so when he got out he was the last one to leave the showerroom. He dried himself off, took the towel off of his waist and started changing into his uniform. He fixed his collar (unfortunately he _had_ to, since that was the school's protocol. Normally all of his collars would be completely unfolded) and slung his uniform blazer over his shoulder, casting a look at his guitar. The room's rhythm was oddly quiet all of the sudden…

His locker door slammed shut out of nowhere and the sharp nailed hand belonged to none other than the blonde quarterback, who was glaring daggers at him. Akaba blinked, and Hiruma didn't say a word, for his expression said his cadence for him.

"_Fuu_," Akaba smirked and closed his eyes, "Your tune is quite upsetting. There's no need to be; I didn't say your name."

That glared subsided into a giant grin, he started to laugh. "You don't think I _know_ that?"

Akaba gave Hiruma his _own_ treatment for a moment; he didn't answer him. All he did was smile.

"_Kekeke_, I'll let it slide for now." Hiruma spoke as if he was _warning _Akaba, and knowing him, Akaba would best not test his own luck by _gloating. _Even if they were a secret, what they _did_ definitely wasn't a secret between them two, so if Akaba wanted to, he could have just said 'I had sex' in his '_musicianal'_ dialect.

Akaba is not one for conforming, and besides… Hiruma didn't necessarily _tell_ him _not_ to boast. He only did it because it was necessary, and now that Hiruma was looking at him, the quarterback figured that out as well.

Akaba reopened his locker as the quarterback backed off. Hiruma sneakily tickled Akaba's palm as he turned around, taking his laptop and leaving the locker room without a word. Akaba watched the door close, and then nonchalantly went to get his guitar before leaving as well. He made his way to his scheduled Biology class, where Yamato would be there to _definitel_y ask him questions.

Akaba knew that those scratches on his back were not a limited time experience. This won't be the _last _time Hiruma would embark on a symphony like that with him...

**Author's Note:**

> I swear Akaba Hayato is a straight savage underneath his cold, standoffish (and sometimes kiddishly stupid) behavior. Refer to him using his guitar as a baseball bat in the manga lmao. Guitar master in the streets, sensual beast in the sheets; and Hiruma is just erotic as shit, geez.
> 
> I reckon this was not OOC, hopefully. This is my first time writing smut, please don't roast me lmao. Hope you enjoyed the ride :)


End file.
